I was reminded on Facebook yesterday that I have a story whose time has come.
I'm not yet ready to tell my Arkansas story, but I AM ready to tell the Lake Funk story.
Years ago, my husband and a friend of his went through a bass fishing phase where they traveled to storied Texas lakes to fish.
Unfortunately, one time, they decided that it would be fun if their wives went with them to the MOABL - Mother Of All Bass Lakes - Lake Fork, which will forever be Lake Funk in my mind.
Now if you guys out there want a tip on how to make a woman angry at you for the rest of her ever-loving life, till death do you part, you tell that woman that there's a "resort" at Lake Fork that she and her friend can hang out in while you fish.
This woman was told this lie prior to her departure to the God-forsaken hell hole at Lake Funk. My friend Luressa, who was a new demonstrator at the time, and I packed up a weekend's worth of cardmaking fun, and got into the truck, as innocent as little lambs. If it had been a movie, there would have been creepy music playing in the background as we packed up, laughing, not a care in the world.
As we approached Lake Funk, however, we started to sense a dark force, and also that perhaps that the word "resort" didn't mean what these soon-to-be ex-husbands THOUGHT it meant. Our fears were confirmed when we pulled up to the filthy, FILTHY, dark, poorly built "cabins" we'd be staying in. Through the clouds of mosquitos and other stinging insects, we realized with horror that we were now four hours from civilization and had no choice but to spend not one, but TWO nights in these glorified outhouses. Did I mention filthy?
For obvious reasons, the interior of the outhouses were pitch dark. Looking back, it was a blessing, but at the time, it sure would have been nice to SEE the Raisinets stuck to the bedspread instead of finding them with one's hand. And no, I'm not making this up. There were Raisinets stuck to the bedspread.
Oh - and here's a kicker - the God-forsaken hellhole known as Lake Funk - for the rest of this story GFHKALF - is in a DRY COUNTY. If there is one place on earth that you should be allowed to drink copious amounts of alcohol, it's GFHKALF.
A definite chill settled over these two marriages, which was intensified when the two Y Chromosomes suggested that we eat food prepared in the outhouse's "bar." Um, no thank you. I'll be drinking Listerine and rocking back and forth in the outhouse, thank you very much.
We started to notice that people were staring at us. A lot. Probably wondering why in the world we appeared to voluntarily be visiting GFHKALF and not as part of some sort of East Texas human trafficking ring. The staring made us increasingly uncomfortable as the weekend went on.
Luressa and I decided to drive 300 miles or something (not far enough) to the nearest Wal-Mart to purchase light fixtures, since we could not see to stamp in the outhouses. Just being on a highway that seemed like it went somewhere away from that place was glorious. I am pretty sure we bought hand sanitizer too. And probably looked for a divorce attorney. Even while we were driving down the road, people stared at us. It was very creepy in a Deliverance/Walking Dead sort of way. We struggled through the Saturday, stamping in the semi darkness and obsessively washing our hands. I don't remember what we ate for dinner that night - probably gum or cough drops. We studied community property laws and revised our wills.
The next morning, we at least knew we had spent our last night in the outhouses. The Y Chromosomes just had to get through what was likely to be their last fishing trip on earth and we could go home, take Silkwood showers and change the locks when they went to work. Once again, Luressa and I hit the open road. It was Sunday in GFHKALF. We found a McDonald's or something edible far, far away from GFHKALF and headed back. And then we saw it.
Driving down what I call the GFHKALF evacuation route highway, we approached a man, walking on the shoulder of the road, in his Sunday best. Dragging a body.
A really BIG body.
Having been desensitized by two days in hell, we weren't surprised, but we were curious. We wondered if it was the body of the person who had told him there was a "resort" at Lake Funk and decided we shouldn't judge him. We slowed down as we got closer to get a better look.
OH - no worries! It's not a human being! It's a 200 pound hog with its throat cut. Getting dragged down the road by a guy in a suit. On a 107 degree day. In East Texas.
Because that's how this part of the world rolls. How else you gonna get your Sunday brunch done?
But GFHKALF had more in store for us - I know, it hardly seems possible.
Did I mention that this is a great way to make your wife angry at you for the rest of her life? Because that's an important part of this story, and I don't want to leave that out.
They concluded their fishing trip, which we certainly hoped had been on their bucket lists, because the buckets were not far off, in our opinion. They SWORE to us that there was another restaurant in GFHKALF where you might actually be able to eat and not die, and that they would take us there before we hit the road. We arrive at said restaurant, walked in, and much to our surprise, there were light fixtures and the appearance of some modern conveniences, like running water and people with teeth. We settled in and ordered "safe" items like a single hush puppy and a can of Coke or something like that. And then we saw it.
A large family had walked in for their Sunday lunch, dressed in the official uniform of GFHKALF - overalls with no shirt - and started to pass our table to get to theirs. The elder of the tribe was facing us as they passed. With a hole in the crotch of his overalls the size of a basketball. And no underwear.
That was pretty much the icing on the Lake Funk cake and a very appropriate sendoff.
I'm fairly certain these two men, to whom we are still married, still sleep with one eye open. As well they should.
I'm still foraging through my pre-order box and having oodles of fun. This little bicycle is in the same set I blogged yesterday - Life's Adventure. I cut the greeting off the image, as is my custom, and stamped the bike on watercolor paper. Then I colored it with my aquapainter and Derwent Inktense pencils.
I LOVE the paper in the background - it's from the new Moonlight Designer Series Paper Stack. Has a fun Bokeh feel.
This card is headed to my friend Libby, who I think of every time I stamp a bike :).
And, unrelated, this morning we think we had a little butterfly hatch out back. This little guy was hanging out on our tomato netting, a little dazed. Know what kind he is? Sadly, my butterfly bush isn't blooming yet, but I do have other things flowering back there right now, including my herbs. Hopefully he can find a snack.
So remember ladies - no good will come of trips to Lake Funk - and if your husband, intended, or any other man ever uses the word "resort" - that darn well better be backed up by Travel and Leisure Magazine, Martha Stewart and Jesus - because if not, I can assure you, you need to head for the Four Seasons and let him fish at the outhouse with his friends.